Friday, August 22, 2014

The Sunday Roast all Week.

I
know that some of you of a certain age have memories of the remains of the
traditional Sunday roast being served in various guises for the next few (too
many) consecutive days of the week. The prevailing culture of household frugality
and the complete inability to consider waste of any food at all – despite the
lack of refrigeration in many if not most households of the time – underpinned
the practice of course, and I think we will all agree that a return to some of
those values would have a lot of benefits beyond the mere household budget.

The
practice of recycling cold meat of is hardly new of course. In the
mid-nineteenth century, a woman called Caroline Chisholm migrated from England
to Australia, and became a staunch supporter of, and advocate, for new
immigrants, particularly of the young female kind. There was only one possible future for young single
immigrant women – marriage. It was not a difficult goal to achieve in the new
settlements where women were in short supply. One of Caroline’s projects was to
assist the young housewife manage the weekly ration of salt beef, and to that
end she produced a pamphlet entitled SevenThings to do with Salt Beef.

Today
I want to share with you some comments on the topic from The Belgian Cookbook (1916) – a lovely little post-WWII book which
contained “recipes … sent by Belgian refugees from all parts of the United
Kingdom.” The author begins the introduction with the following:

Made dishes are a great
feature in this little book. I have tried to help those small households who
cook, let us say, a leg of mutton on Sunday, and then see it meander through
the week in various guises till it ends its days honorable as soup on the
following Friday. Endeavor to hide from your husband that you are making that
leg of mutton almost achieve eternal life. It is noticeable that men are
attracted to a house where there is good cooking, and the most unapproachable
beings are rendered accessible by the pleasantness of a souffle, or the aroma
of a roast duck. You must have observed that a certain number of single men
have their hearts very "wishful" towards their cook. Not infrequently
they marry that cook; but it is less that she is a good and charming woman than
that she is a good and charming cook. Ponder this, therefore; for I have known
men otherwise happy, who long for a good beef-steak pudding as vainly as the
Golden Ass longed for a meal of roses. Try these recipes, for really good
rissoles and hashes. Twice-cooked meat can always be alleviated by mushrooms or
tomatoes. Remember that the discovery of a new dish is of more use than the
discovery of a new star, - besides which, you will get much more praise for it.
And if on Wednesday you find that you have to eat the same part of the very
same animal that you had on Monday, do not, pray, become exasperated; treat it
affectionately, as I treat my black hat, which becomes more ravishing every
time that I alter it. Only, do not buy extravagant make-weight for a scrap of
cold meat that would be best used in a mince patty, or you will be like a man
keeping a horse in order to grow mushrooms.

Naturally
there are recipes in the book, and I have selected a couple for you. The first
is rather ordinary, unless you are passionate about celery, but the second is
rather interesting, I think, although it does not specify leftover meat to be
minced.

To
Use Up Cold Meat

Take
a fresh celery, wash it well, and remove the green leaves. Let it boil till
half-cooked in

salted
water. Drain it on a sieve, and then cut it lengthways, and place minced meat
of any kind,

well
seasoned, between the two pieces. Tie them together with a thread and let them
cook again

for
a quarter of an hour, this time either in the same water and gently simmered,
or in the oven

in
a well-buttered dish. Other people, to avoid the trouble of tying the two
halves, spread the

mince
on each half and cook it in the oven, laid flat in a fireproof dish. In this
case put a good

lump
of butter on each portion of mince.

Stuffed
Cauliflower.

Pick
over a fine cauliflower, and plunge it for a moment in boiling water. Look over
it well again

and
remove any grit or insects. Put it head downwards in a pan when you have
already placed a

good
slice of fat bacon at the bottom and sides. In the holes between the pan and
the vegetable put a stuffing of minced meat, with breadcrumbs, yolks of eggs,
mushrooms, seasoning of the usual kinds, in fact, a good forcemeat. Press this
well in, and pour over it a thin gravy. Let it cook gently, and when the gravy
on the top has disappeared put a dish on the top of the saucepan, turn it
upside down and slip the cauliflower out. Serve very hot.